


to feel tall, to feel small

by setoso



Series: to feel tall, to feel small [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Emotional Constipation, Established Relationship, FaOI 2017, Fantasy on Ice, M/M, Overthinking, light d/s undertones if you squint, push and pull
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 07:25:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16363475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setoso/pseuds/setoso
Summary: It doesn’t make sense, for them to finally be in the same place and still have so much trouble being together.





	to feel tall, to feel small

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts for months, long enough for me to get tired of trying to somehow make it work the way I had originally planned. At the same time, though, I didn't have the heart to press delete either, as much as I often wanted to. 
> 
> Bless Mon for being an angel and proofreading for typos despite not really being into fs ♥

 

  
  
  


It still feels strange, in a way, to spend the night in Yuzuru's hotel room.

Shoma can’t be sure if it’s due to some remnant of confused awkwardness still lingering between them or because sneaking around and constantly having to look over his shoulder is something he’s never really had to deal with before.

It’s not because it feels unfamiliar, not anymore. It took a couple of tries, at first, but they have a routine now and Shoma likes this, the certainty that comes with it. There’s a steady familiarity in waiting for things to calm down, for everyone to retire to their respective rooms, for the lights to turn off, before he quietly makes his way to the next floor, the weight of a spare key card in his pocket and his phone’s screen lit up with a read message.

_I’m here! Got your key?_

It’s been almost two hours now since the notification popped up and he internally winces at his _“Yep, be there soon”_ reply. The more time had passed the more a part of him had wanted to just make up an excuse and leave his room, despite the late hour, but this is not just about him and he doesn’t want to make it uncomfortable for anyone, especially Yuzu. 

He always knocks first, because it feels rude to not give some kind of warning, despite the fact that he knows he’s expected. Then unlocks the door and pushes it open, stepping inside and gently letting it fall shut behind him. 

He remembers the first time he did this, his hands shaking as he fought down the urge to turn tail and run; how he got rooted to the spot the moment Yuzu answered the door, still flushed and wet from his shower, his shirt sticking to his chest and a towel bunched around his neck. The awkwardness, then the relief as things started falling into place over time.

The steps in this routine they’ve built are always the same but the growing tension in his chest feels new and unsettling every time, reminiscent of the way he’d hold his breath before hearing his name being called on the ice. Except now it’s just Yuzu softly calling his name with a smile, looking up from where he’s sprawled on the unmade bed with his phone.

And there it is. This jarring sense of stillness in the few seconds it takes for Shoma to close the distance between them. He’s the one moving, yet it feels like he’s at a standstill, watching from the corner of the room, like it’s not really him toeing off his slippers and climbing onto the bed. But it only lasts for a moment. When he leans into Yuzu’s open arms, everything falls into place and he’s back in his own body, Yuzu holding him close in a warm hug, his breathing a steady comfort next to Shoma’s ear.

They're still kind of trying to figure this out, how to make it work. While Yuzu doesn't like admitting it out loud, Shoma knows painfully well that it's taxing, having to spend so much time apart and then suddenly getting thrown so close again, expecting to pick up from where they left off the last time. Texting never seems to be enough when not accompanied by that playful twinkle in Yuzu’s eyes, the cadence of his voice always echoing too sharp and distorted from the phone’s speakers, making it difficult to gauge his mood.

“Hi there,” Yuzu murmurs fondly and Shoma squeezes him a bit tighter, because that’s easier than finding the right words for all the things Shoma’s been thinking about lately and for all the ways he’s missed him.

The end of the season was something Shoma had both dreaded yet anticipated at the same time. It was easier in the beginning, being assigned to different events, both of them able to win without this meaning the other had to lose. He remembers those video calls. Shyly putting on his Skate America gold for Yuzu to see, feeling giddy and fulfilled afterwards. It got harder near the end; Yuzu fighting to regain his world title, Shoma fighting too, only two points behind, breathing down his neck.

Ice shows offer a chance for them to recover, try to restore some balance. Shoma knows Yuzu’s pride is still somewhat wounded. His victory at worlds served as a reassurance after the messy grand prix final and another silver at four continents, but then team trophy immediately brought some of that doubt back, that same old mental block.

And Shoma got too close. 

Yuzu can be efficient at compartmentalizing. He’s been doing it for years while sharing a coach with Javier, but he doesn’t share the same close proximity with Shoma, and it’s easier to get more distant when you’re also physically away from someone. For all their good moments, sometimes there’s this push and pull that leaves Shoma barely managing to keep up. 

He can’t blame Yuzu for running hot and cold at times, knows that they both need space for themselves, a chance to regroup their thoughts at certain points. 

But it’s so easy for the idea of the inevitable end of whatever fragile thing exists between them to crawl into his mind, settle deep into the cracks of doubt there. Shoma isn’t one to quit, despises losing, but can’t help but wonder if it’s possible to win all the time. Even Yuzu seems unable to do that.

Now is not the time for the jumbled mess in his head though, and Shoma tries to get rid of it by burrowing even closer, his face squished impossibly tight against Yuzu’s throat, wishing for that familiar feeling of calmness to blanket over him faster. He’s so close, he can feel the small vibrations of Yuzu’s voice when he speaks again.

“Did something happen?” his tone is light enough, but there’s an undertone of worry lurking there, in the way he curls his fingers into Shoma’s shoulder, gentle and warm, as if trying to appease him. 

_Yes_ , so many things have happened since the last time they got to hold each other like this, comfortably alone, but there’s only so much Shoma can type into the small Line chat box, before he starts worrying that it might be too much. He doesn’t want this feeling of loneliness to seep into every interaction, turning it bitter.

“No,” he replies instead, since it’s technically not lying, just omitting parts. “Sorry it took so long, Nobu wouldn’t fall asleep,” he adds, trying to keep any sourness out of his voice. Usually he doesn’t have a problem being around Nobu, coaxed by his cheerful energy into standing a little straighter, laughing louder. But it’s a different case when he hasn’t seen Yuzu in weeks and he’s only one floor away.

Yuzu laughs quietly, seemingly satisfied with this answer, mutters, “Poor Nobu.” His hand is now petting Shoma’s hair in a way that makes him want to curl up and sleep for the rest of the week. “It’s okay. I had time for a shower, played some games.” 

Yuzu smells fresh and clean and Shoma nuzzles his neck, breathing in the familiar scent and willing himself to relax. He doesn’t resist when Yuzu lies back against the pillows and pulls him along, his hand slipping from Shoma’s hair lower, rubbing slow circles on his back. 

Shoma’s aware that he’s still clinging to him, a bit too much for only being apart a couple weeks, but can’t bring himself to move. 

“I’m glad you’re here early. I thought you wouldn’t make it till tomorrow,” Shoma says slowly, lips moving against Yuzu’s skin. It’s tempting to press a kiss there, perhaps even flick his tongue over the spot, but he pulls back just a little, so he can look at Yuzu’s face instead, the soft hair covering his forehead. 

Up close he looks tired, his eyes a bit red and the pale skin around them irritated pink, probably from rubbing on it too much. Shoma feels a little guilty for keeping him up when he clearly needs to be resting, knows what it’s like wanting to sleep after a stressful day and having to keep yourself awake for someone else’s sake.

Yuzu opens his mouth to reply but ends up yawning instead, his other hand, the one that’s not busy petting Shoma like he’s a giant cat, coming up to cover his mouth.

“I wanted to spend the night with you,” Yuzu’s voice has gotten deep, the way it does right before he falls asleep, and Shoma’s breath catches in his throat, something warm unfurling deep in his chest.

“We don’t get to do that often,” he says and then instantly regrets it, hoping it didn’t sound like an accusation. There’s a window there that Shoma just cracked open without meaning to, allowing a cold draft to settle right between them, and Yuzu hesitates. It’s barely a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity, waiting for a reaction.

Yuzu brings his other arm around so he can cup Shoma’s face and press a kiss to his temple, then his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Covering the cracks in the window with some duct tape, and Shoma prays it will hold.

“Yeah, I missed your snoring,” Yuzu teases lightly, eyes drooping but the corners of his lips pulled up, and Shoma is grateful for his joking tone, breathes a little easier. 

He rolls his eyes nonetheless. “I never snore.” 

“Mmh, yes, you do,” Yuzu insists lazily and Shoma jabs his thumb against his side in retaliation, drinking in the breathy giggle Yuzu lets out. His hand has found its way to Shoma’s nape again, slender fingers sliding through his hair, and Shoma feels drowsy with how soothing the touch is. 

He missed this, he missed this so much, Yuzu’s presence so close and real, his smell all around him. The thought that Yuzu might have missed him just as badly is heady, and this time he can’t resist pressing a kiss to the tender skin of Yuzu’s neck, a fleeting touch.

Yuzu asks him about his day then, nodding and humming along as Shoma slowly whispers everything he would have texted him but didn’t, small details that don’t matter. He must really be exhausted though, because his petting stops after a couple minutes, body going limp next to Shoma’s.

Shoma extracts himself carefully from his half embrace, getting up to undress down to his thin sleeping shirt and underwear, and turn off the remaining lights. He makes sure to set his alarm early enough, so he can return to his room before there’s any chance of Nobu waking up, and then crawls into the bed again, pulling the duvet over them. 

Yuzu has managed to roll on his side in his sleep, facing away, and suddenly Shoma feels a little alone, staring at the back of his head. It’s nothing new, Yuzu sleeping curled up into himself like this, needing his space. Shoma doesn’t know why the warmth that had spread through him just a few moments ago is gone as he’s left awake in the dark for a while. He’s not used to Yuzu being the one to fall asleep first.

  


~*~

  


It’s too soon when his alarm goes off and Shoma groans miserably as he reaches for it blindly, trying to turn it off. The horrible ringing echoes even more when it’s still so dark and quiet and his eyelids seem to be glued together. It takes him three tries to successfully slide his thumb across the screen, and he’s left staring blearily at it for a couple seconds, before he drops it back on the bed and rolls around, his face half buried in a pillow. He doesn’t want to get up, but then suddenly remembers why he must and, _oh_.

He opens his eyes and sees the back of Yuzu’s head, dimly illuminated by his phone. His body is still curled away from him, stirring slightly, and Shoma knows he needs to get up, but he can’t make himself do it when Yuzu is less than an arm’s length away. They’re not touching, but it’s so much closer than anything Shoma could have had two weeks ago, or even yesterday. 

They’re not touching, but Shoma wants to touch him so badly. He knows that it’s easier this way, pushing away the lingering thoughts, drowning them out in the heat of Yuzu’s skin.

He lets his fingers graze Yuzu’s back, softly at first, then moving lower to his waist and sliding around him, bolder, pushing against his warmth. The possibility of being the one to wake him up when the alarm failed to do so fills him with guilt, a nasty taste on the back of his throat, but the thought of simply getting up and leaving is even more unbearable.

Yuzu is taller, but here, lying down, Shoma can pretend they’re the same height. Here, curled up like this, Yuzu feels small and vulnerable and Shoma could hold him in his arms if he wanted to, he could push him down onto the mattress and listen to his breath hitch. He’s been thinking a lot about this lately.

Yuzu makes a small noise, stretches an arm in front of him, hips pushing back as he curls up even more.

Suddenly, simply pressing against his back is unbearable too. The need to see his face slowly unfurls inside Shoma, chases away the lethargy in his limbs.

His brain is still muddled enough with sleep to betray him though, and, momentarily, he imagines looking down at Yuzu’s face, disheveled and flushed, pictures him panting helplessly, mouth slick and open as he tumbles over the edge. 

His mind drifts to the last time they did this, after the team trophy. Remembers how rigid Yuzu felt under him at first, the frustration of his short program bleeding slowly out of his taut frame with every kiss, held lovingly against the sheets. Back then, just like many times before, every touch on his skin felt like a fight Shoma had to win. Such a vast difference compared to after worlds, with Yuzu still riding the high of his victory, bright and eager, his touches easy and confident and overwhelming. 

Shoma tries to remember what it had been like before, last summer, without the added load of competitions. A different kind of adrenaline, missing the underlying bitterness of losing and the, sometimes awkward, attempts at consolation. Instead, something simple. Just the two of them soaking up each other’s touches, not so much thinking. Trading Yuzu’s scary intensity on ice for something mellower, yet equally thrilling in its own way. Being the sole recipient of his unfocused gaze, giving him the kind of pleasure he seeks, getting his own share along the way.

Shoma inhales sharply, fingers digging into Yuzu’s hip, stroking over the waistband of his thin sleeping pants as he firmly stomps on the impulse to push the fabric down. He shouldn’t be wanting this right now. 

He wonders if this is how it’s always going to be; this never ending tension spread thickly between them as they hide in hotel rooms, trying to ignore the rest of the world and its demands of greatness. 

He feels it, the moment Yuzu’s body finally gives up on chasing the last remnants of sleep, the change in his breathing, and he’s caught between guilt and anticipation, a nervous kind of excitement stirring in his chest. 

Yuzu rolls over ungracefully, his elbow almost knocking into Shoma’s chin, face scrunching up before he opens one eye, then the other, squinting against the light still coming from Shoma’s phone. It takes a few seconds for awareness to wash over his face, to remember where he is, and he groans, hiding his face in his pillow.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep,” there’s frustration in his muffled voice, but mostly he sounds tired and not exactly awake yet. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Shoma says, his own voice distant to his ears, treacherous fingers back to gripping Yuzu’s waist, thumbing at the warm skin there. It’s nothing new to them, falling asleep in each other’s company, often too tired between other arrangements for anything more, although it’s mostly Shoma who’s guilty of that.

“What time is it?” Yuzu murmurs, rubbing at his face. 

Shoma wants to forget about time, about the minutes ticking away, telling him he’s gonna run out, crash and burn soon.

“It’s too early. You can go back to sleep, if you want,” he whispers, his own hand coming up to brush against Yuzu’s face, push his bangs out of his eyes, linger on his cheek. The skin there is soft and warm from sleep. 

Yuzu still looks tired, but his gaze is more alert now, focused. He shivers slightly when Shoma’s touch finds his neck, settling there. 

The phone’s screen finally goes back to black and Shoma blinks rapidly, trying to get used to the dark. He knows Yuzu is still staring at him, can sense the weight of his gaze.

“I really am sorry.” 

Shoma chews on his lip, uneasiness welling up inside him in thick, suffocating waves, almost drowning out the previous burst of excitement. It’s easy to start wondering if perhaps Yuzu is apologizing for much more than just falling asleep, for things that might not even solely be his fault. 

“It’s okay,” he repeats, because he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to say, still can’t decide what that odd, vulnerable look in Yuzu’s eyes exactly meant. He wishes his phone was still on, to dispel some of the weight pressing down on his chest. The darkness makes everything too solemn, too serious, with an air of finality.

Yuzu pulls away, leaving empty space between them, sighs as he fumbles with the bedside lamp, until muted light washes over their little corner of the room. He then scoots closer again, on his side, head propped on his pillow. He’s back to looking taller now, gazing down at Shoma with that same strange expression; guarded, yet barely contained at the same time. 

Some of Yuzu’s hair is sticking up at a weird angle and at any other time Shoma would have snorted at how silly he looks, but it feels like there’s something happening here.

Shoma waits at first, letting the silence stretch between them, feeling the tension grow with every second. It’s kinda surprising that Yuzu hasn’t defaulted to his chatterbox mode yet, with how nervous his eyes look. But, then again, it’s too early, and they’re both too tired for anything this complicated.

Maybe, right now, Shoma should just let things be more simple.

He wants to reach out and smooth down Yuzu’s unruly strands, so he does just that. 

“You’ll have to make it up to me. If you’re sorry,” he blurts it out without thinking, before he can stop himself, half a joke and half not. 

At first Yuzu looks almost baffled, but then scrunches up his nose and laughs, a mix between a snort and a giggle. The relief on his face is unmistakable as he finally drops his gaze and allows himself to be petted, shoulders relaxing.

“I’ll work hard on that,” Yuzu bats his eyelashes comically, his tone playful but with a hint of something more, a promise. He catches Shoma’s hands and links their fingers together, caressing his knuckles. 

Sometimes Shoma looks at him and can barely believe that it’s real, what they have. It doesn’t _feel_ real half the time, with them going on about their lives while in different continents, sometimes even while they’re in the same building, the same room. Shoma has to remind himself that, yes, it’s real, and they’re both in it, for now at least.

When Yuzu looks at him again, his expression so open and fond, Shoma almost chokes. This must be what swallowing a star must feel like; heat getting lodged in his throat before it bursts in a myriad of colors, stardust spreading through his body right down to his toes, gentle warmth pooling slowly into every nook and cranny until he feels hot all over.

Slowly, Yuzu unlaces their fingers and goes on to cradle Shoma’s face between his palms, a thumb stroking lightly over Shoma’s chapped lips before leaning in, kissing him softly. It’s sweet, and Shoma can’t have enough of this, of him. 

“Did you lose the chapstick I got you?” Yuzu murmurs, his own lips feeling smooth and warm against Shoma’s bitten ones, like soft waves caressing sharp rocks jutting out the shore, slowly breaking off the jagged edges apart, burnishing them until they’re polished and sleek.

“No,” Shoma starts, then at Yuzu’s pointed look admits with a pout, “Maybe.” 

Yuzu shakes his head and smiles fondly, presses small kisses all over Shoma’s face, on his forehead and his eyelids and the tip of his nose, his cheekbones. Then he’s back to where he started, sucking softly on his bottom lip, barely slipping his tongue inside, before dragging his mouth to Shoma’s jaw. Shoma’s breathing has picked up and his hands get tangled into Yuzu’s hair, tugging just a little. It brings a small sigh out of Yuzu, who finds Shoma’s mouth again, slotting their lips just right to make it deep. 

There are words pressing at Shoma’s throat, cutting off the air, but he ignores them for now. As he drops his fingers to Yuzu’s waist he’s reminded of earlier, how he wanted nothing more than to grasp at the naked skin there. Yuzu’s back is warm under his loose shirt, the skin smooth. Shoma can’t stop, slips a hand under the waistband, nudges a knee between Yuzu’s legs at the same time. Rocking slowly against Yuzu, he hears another sigh, only this time it feels like a warning.

Once again, Shoma’s running out of time, heart hammering behind his ribs. He’s not sure how much time has passed since his alarm went off, but it’s still pitch black outside, so it can’t be that bad. 

“Shoma,” Yuzu whispers, his name a puff of hot air against his cheek between their kissing.

It might be selfish, but right now Shoma wants Yuzu to ask him to stay, to admit he wants this just as much. He presses closer, insistent, fingers tight on Yuzu’s jaw.

“Shoma,” Yuzu repeats, more firmly now, and pulls back slightly. He reaches behind himself to take a hold of Shoma’s wrist, and there’s no way he can’t feel the pulse there going crazy. As if on instinct Yuzu strokes over it with his thumb, soothing. For a short moment they’re both still, suspended like that, Yuzu’s face torn in indecision, eyes dark. 

Shoma holds his breath, waiting; not daring to ask outloud, but wanting nonetheless.

A part of him wonders if the lines on his face translate into something desperate or demanding, the same way he knows Yuzu’s eyes can flick around restlessly in surrender or burn with hunger; the pure need to be wanted compared to the undeniable hunger that comes with wanting. Two sides of the same coin, blurring around the edges when it spins fast in the air.

Finally, Yuzu groans in defeat and pins Shoma’s hand to the bed, rolls them over so he’s on top. When Yuzu settles between his legs, Shoma’s breath hitches, anticipation flaring up inside him. It feels like the first step towards a victory.

“Come on,” Yuzu’s voice is a challenge as he pulls at Shoma’s shirt until it comes off, lips and teeth against his throat. Shoma’s head falls back on the pillows, and he lets Yuzu shower his collarbone and chest with wet kisses, lets him roll his tongue over the spots he knows will force a sigh out of him. His hands move instinctively, finding Yuzu’s face to comb back his messy hair, pushing it out of his eyes before settling on the back of his neck. It earns him a small smile of appreciation, before Yuzu’s eyes flutter shut, his cheek resting on Shoma’s chest, right on his pounding heart. 

At first Shoma thought Yuzu would be quick about it, but now he’s stalling while caressing down Shoma’s sides, as if he needs to take his time to remember Shoma’s body all over again, fingertips tapping delicately on a nasty bruise on Shoma’s hip before planting a soothing kiss on it. It tickles when he moves on to his belly and Shoma can’t hold back a series of faint giggles as Yuzu breathes butterfly kisses all over the firm muscles there, finishing with a loving bite right under his navel, so close to where he needs him.

Shoma rocks up against him, words not quite making it out of his mouth, but Yuzu knows what Shoma wants, even if he chooses to be a dick about it. He takes his time caressing Shoma’s thighs instead, leaving a couple lingering kisses on his hip bones, his lips dragging against Shoma’s waistband. 

It would be crude, to hold Yuzu’s face demandingly and press it to his crotch, although Shoma’s fantasized about it before while tugging at himself desperately in the privacy of his own room, what it would feel like if he allowed himself to ask for this. But, whenever the opportunity arises, he always finds himself hesitating and resorting to gentle, faltering touches, Yuzu’s presence somehow managing to feel imposing even when he’s asking for it on his knees.

The tempting thought still lingers though and, when Yuzu comes up to catch his lips in a demanding kiss, Shoma doesn’t hold back, pushes just as hard into the touch, his teeth catching on Yuzu’s plush lips, making him groan. A shiver goes down his spine at the sound.

It’s heady, knowing that he can bring these noises out of Yuzu, that they’re meant for his ears only.

Yuzu breathes hard when he finally drags Shoma’s underwear down, just enough to free his hardening cock. His fingers are so delicate when they gently circle the base and then move up, a trail of feathery touches, before wrapping around him and giving a tentative stroke. 

“Oh,” Shoma’s sigh of relief gets swallowed up by Yuzu’s eager lips, his warmth all around. 

It goes like this for a little while, Yuzu slowly stroking him to full hardness, his touch light and teasing, mouth a constant press against Shoma’s tender lips and jaw. Shoma’s thumping pulse is so loud and fast, he can feel it all the way to his fingertips, where they cling to Yuzu’s neck.

Then Yuzu pulls back and Shoma barely has enough time to catch his breath from all the kissing, before he feels those lips slide down his body, closing over the head of his cock. And, _oh_. When Yuzu starts sucking softly, Shoma arches off the bed with a muted whimper, the sheer need to push deeper into the wet heat of his mouth drowning out everything else. He’s so caught up in it, he misses the small strained noise that escapes Yuzu, barely registers the fingers digging into his hips, holding him down. 

Shoma’s mind is a hazy, tangled mess, but then he remembers that Yuzu can’t stand this, that he has a pretty bad gag reflex. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he rasps out, head swimming. His chest tightens when Yuzu pulls off him just enough to drop a kiss to his belly, a silent reassurance.

It’s always unbearable, staying still like this, when all Shoma wants to do is fuck up into the softness of his mouth with abandon. But he knows how this works, and even more he knows Yuzu can get terribly embarrassed over it, some prickly part of his pride wounded at the thought he can’t will himself into perfection when it comes to this. 

Shoma gives up on trying to set the pace. He lets his hands drop around Yuzu’s neck instead, a hard press into his shoulders, needing something to ground himself. One of Yuzu’s hands is still wrapped around him, pumping slowly, but he brings the other to where Shoma’s fingers are digging into his skin, covers them with his own. Shoma squeezes back as the heat keeps building in his limbs and his mouth drops open in a long gasp, something scorching and wild unfurling inside him. 

It’s near impossible to keep completely still, his hips twitching, and the part of his brain that’s not falling apart is grateful that Yuzu tries to accommodate him. Mirroring his weak jerky movements, Yuzu follows in the same rhythm, mouth never quite leaving him but not quite taking him deeper, his hand a constant shifting pressure around Shoma, hot and tight. Push and pull, something Yuzu’s always been good at, and Shoma bites at the inside of his cheek, tries to chase these thoughts away, hating to spoil the mood. Instead he tries to focus on the presence of the body so close to his, lets the shaky touch of Yuzu’s fingers pressed flat against his abdomen drag him back into the heated moment.

Shoma’s eyes have long since dropped shut, but he wills them open when he feels Yuzu pull away with a small gasp, face flushed. He rests his heated cheek on Shoma’s hip as he catches his breath, fingers still stroking him lazily. There’s a little sweat gathering at Yuzu’s hairline, making his bangs stick slightly to his forehead. 

“Okay?” he asks.

Biting his lips, Shoma nods and rubs at the back of Yuzu’s head. He tries to keep his touch soothing instead of urgent, but he needs Yuzu to finish this, can’t take more of him slowing down when Shoma’s so close, dizzy with pleasure. 

Yuzu seems unhurried, though, as he nuzzles Shoma’s cock, the slide of his slick lips so hot and promising, but still maddeningly soft. Teasing. He huffs out a laugh when Shoma whines in impatience, looks up at him with a sly smile and a playful glint in his lidded eyes.

“Shoma,” he calls his name coyly, innocently, as if he didn’t have Shoma’s dick in his mouth just a few seconds ago. He really is the worst, Shoma thinks, as he strains against him, seeking out the comforting heat of his lips. Yuzu laughs a little, more of an amused exhale than an actual laugh, but lets Shoma push into his mouth again, his tongue swirling around the tip and then dragging flat on the underside. 

They don’t get to be this intimate as often as Shoma would have liked, even when they’re together during competitions, and every time it happens Shoma wants to savor it, every single second. But it’s like his brain short circuits halfway, and he always manages to miss the moment Yuzu starts to really get into it; how he gets more sloppy, the way he mouths at him more desperately. The added adrenaline makes him bolder, less aware of his own discomfort when Shoma pushes slightly deeper against the back of his tongue. There’s a thin layer of spit glistening on his lips every time he pulls off with a gasp to drag his tongue on the underside, down to the base, before getting back to the head again, sucking hot and tight, moaning sweetly around the heated flesh. 

Yuzu shouldn’t look so worked up when Shoma hasn’t even properly touched him yet.

His fingers are everywhere, pushing into Shoma’s skin, gripping at his waist and hips like he can’t get enough of him, and Shoma feels like he’s getting pulled deeper into a drowning haze with every graze of his hands. 

Yuzu is so beautiful like this; eyes shut, hair a total mess, his normally pale skin an explosion of pink and his lips rubbed raw. 

The sight is too much and too real after spending the last month only fantasizing about it, and Shoma screws his eyes shut and plants one foot more firmly on the bed, trying to get some leverage. He can’t stand the way Yuzu’s mouth pulls back every time his own hips snap up, how there’s this space between them that he can’t quite bridge. They’re so close, yet it’s somehow not enough this time, and Shoma moans loud enough to surprise himself when Yuzu presses his tongue into the slit of his cock, hears Yuzu sigh too, as if this is too much for him too. 

He can’t wait to fuck Yuzu properly, close and deep, without all this teasing hesitation. He thinks about it, can clearly see it behind his closed eyelids, almost feels Yuzu’s tight body wrapped all around him, pulsing hot. 

Normally, Yuzu isn’t loud during sex. He tends to make a lot of noise but it’s always subdued, a never ending litany of barely audible gasps and breathy sighs, as if he’s scared someone will overhear. But in the rare times Shoma can get him on his hands and knees, ass high up and face pushed into the sheets, then he can be reduced to a whimpering mess. 

The mental image is the tipping point and Shoma comes like this, without warning, half in Yuzu’s swollen mouth and then on his fingers when Yuzu pulls away with a soft gasp. Yuzu’s not smiling anymore and he’s breathing so hard he’s almost shaking, gaze heavy. It’s lewd, the way he makes a show out of innocently licking his lips before dipping his head, closing his mouth around Shoma’s spent cock and sucking softly one last time, soaking up the wounded noise Shoma makes, still sensitive and reeling. Shoma feels so hot, like his body is gonna burn from the inside out.

For a moment Yuzu deflates and just sits there, slumped, like he just finished a demanding skate. He keeps pressing soft kisses to Shoma’s belly to ease him down, although it looks like he’s trying to collect himself more than anything else, reposition his limbs in a way that doesn’t put as much pressure between his legs. There are a couple red blotches on his collarbone, from where Shoma pressed too hard on his skin, and his breathing still sounds a little erratic, but he looks pleased with himself, a lazy smirk forming on his lips.

“So,” Yuzu drags the word out, trying to keep the smug grin out of his voice and failing. “Did I make it up to you?”

A minute ago Shoma would have just stared blankly, still too caught up in his own head and the lingering touches on his skin. Now, though, he’s regained enough of his bearings to remember that Yuzu is horrible, so he pretends to think for a moment instead.

“A little,” he responds cheekily and Yuzu slaps his thigh with an indignant laugh.

“Come on, brat,” he says as he drags Shoma to the edge of the bed by one of his legs, hopping off and going to the bathroom, turning on the lights. There’s the sound of running water and of Yuzu rinsing his mouth.

Shoma doesn’t want to move, the lack of sleep and sudden release from all the tension that’s been sitting on his shoulders for the past couple weeks leaving him lethargic. Soon, though, reality starts coming back to him in small pieces, and he’s suddenly aware of the clock again. 

When Yuzu comes back to pull him to his feet and help him kick his underwear down all the way, his front brushes against Shoma’s hip and Shoma’s sharply aware of that too.

“You want to — ” he starts, but Yuzu cuts him off with a shake of his head.

“We’ll have time later. Don’t worry about it,” his voice is a bit strained but he smiles as he drops a kiss to Shoma’s hair, drags him to the bathroom and pushes him in the shower.

The water helps clear his head, the hazy blur from before disappearing quickly, and Shoma can’t ignore the way Yuzu is lingering around, trying to appear composed, the same odd look from before in his eyes. 

“Come,” Shoma says, feeling the water slide down his outstretched arm.

Yuzu stares at him, unblinking, and for a moment it looks like he’s not going to, but then he starts peeling off his clothes, stepping under the warm stream of water once he’s done. 

They don’t have the luxury to take their time, so Shoma keeps things simple, his hand wrapped around Yuzu, tugging firmly. Yuzu sighs, forehead resting on Shoma’s, arms tight around him. Rocking weakly into Shoma’s grip, his breath hitches when Shoma sucks gently at his throat. It doesn’t take long for him to come apart, Shoma’s name a soft exhale from his mouth and his fingers digging into Shoma’s waist. It’s amazing, how sensitive Yuzu can be when he allows this to himself, so easily wound up when touched just right. It’s a discovery that Shoma can feel smug about as he lets his hands roam, skirting around Yuzu’s ass just to hear his breathing speed up.

After, when Shoma is blow drying his hair, Yuzu lies on the bed, curled up into a ball. He’s still wrapped up from neck to toe in a big fluffy bathrobe, and he looks at Shoma like he’s something precious. It brings warmth to Shoma’s cheeks and, despite the tiredness, he feels almost lighter, in a way. He didn’t plan for the night to go the way it did, but he’s happy with it, for now. 

The sun has started to rise, a faint dusting of light filtering through the heavy curtains.

He kisses Yuzu again before he leaves, soft and delicate on his sore lips.

“Goodnight,” Shoma says, quietly.

Yuzu hums, sleepy and sated, “Mmm.”

“Still waiting for you to make it up to me,” Shoma reminds him after a small pause, a bit reluctant, but wagging a finger for added effect. 

Yuzu muffles his giggle against his arm, but there’s something serious in his gaze too when he replies. “I’ll try.”

It’s not so dark when Shoma makes it back to his room, but Nobu is still asleep. Shoma changes into a fresh pair of underwear and quickly burrows under the bed covers. He falls asleep wondering how this heavy feeling in his chest can feel both like relief and dread at the same time. 

The hotel clock ticks loudly on the nightstand.

  


~*~

  


Ice shows fall under the category of things Shoma generally likes. The thrill of competition is missing, but it’s replaced with something more comfortable. The audience can still judge, and he’s still aware of his own mistakes, but the points are not there. It’s a breath of fresh air, before the really focused training for next season ramps up. 

It’s nice to see everyone more relaxed too. Tension in competitions has a way of spreading around, so Shoma enjoys watching the other skaters goof off, even though he mostly prefers sticking to his own company. In the breaks between choreography he focuses on elements from his new program, trying to work out the kinks. It feels comfortable, taking it a bit more easy for now, and Shoma has a lot of confidence for the upcoming season.

Ice shows with Yuzu are the worst though. 

The absolute worst, because the moment Shoma allows his concentration to slip, he’s met with the back of Yuzu’s head and his treacherous heart starts doing backflips inside his chest, landing them all, +3 GOE.

There’s something inherently captivating in the beautiful way Yuzu moves on the ice during practice for his short program, the grace in his limbs and the inviting cant of his hips. There are moments when it feels almost intruding to watch him surrender himself wholly to the ice this way, like Shoma’s invading something that’s supposed to be personal, intimate, shared only between Yuzu and the cold surface beneath his skates. But the next second Yuzu’s toepick would catch on some crack or something equally ridiculous, and he would flail and twirl and explode into his most obnoxious laugh, and Shoma can’t look away from that either. 

It’s downright ridiculous. Sometimes he’s not even aware he’s zoned out, skating in a line until he reaches the end of the rink, awareness of his surroundings suddenly rushing in all at once, making him flush. He hopes no one notices these little slip ups, but he knows Yuzu does sometimes. He’s stealing glances at Shoma too, then quickly averts his gaze when he catches Shoma staring back at him.

They both tend to ignore these little moments, for the sake of not drawing unwanted attention and taking practice somewhat seriously. One way or another, though, they end up gravitating closer, when everyone else seems busy lounging at the edge of the rink. Shoma loves these moments the most, because it means Yuzu will line up next to him, the scratch of his skates on the ice suddenly the most comforting sound.

“Hey,” Yuzu says as he pulls at Shoma’s long sleeves with a grin, until Shoma is forced to follow him into a lazy spin. Yuzu’s hair is a floppy mess apart from one strand that sticks up like an antenna. It makes him look a bit like an anime character, the ones with the bean sprout in their hair, and Shoma has half a mind to ask him to duck so he can pat it down. 

“Your hair is alive,” he points out, and Yuzu laughs as he brushes the strands back, pressing them down on all sides meticulously.

“It’s gonna get messy again. Maybe I should cut it.”

Shoma makes a noise of disapproval. “I like it longer.”

For a split second Yuzu looks slightly taken aback, then almost goes cross eyed in an attempt to inspect his own bangs. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Shoma admits, focuses on Yuzu’s shoulder instead of his face, because that’s easier when Yuzu is so close, looking so silly and adorable and like he’s about to say something annoyingly cute that’s going to make Shoma’s face feel like it’s melting. 

There are so many people in the rink, skaters and staff. Shoma would like it if one day they had the chance to skate together, just the two of them, ice all to themselves with no one else watching. He wonders if it would feel easier, then, admitting those things out loud.

“Aw, Shoma, you’re making me blush!”

Shoma flushes and groans and turns in the opposite direction, remembers all the ways Yuzu can be insufferable. Insufferably cute. So many people tend to treat Shoma like he’s the cutest thing on this side of the earth, but honestly, Yuzu just takes the cake. Perhaps it’s a good thing there are so many people around, after all.

“Noo, don’t leave,” Yuzu laughs as he clings to Shoma’s shirt from behind, forcing Shoma to drag him around the rink like an oversized toddler. Shoma mostly pretends to ignore him, same with the heat on his back when Yuzu presses a bit too close for a second. But then Yuzu’s gone, pinching at Shoma’s sides before he lines up next to him again, gliding slowly.

“Wanna come over for games later?” Yuzu suggests, casually, and his face is open and relaxed. Shoma doesn't have anything else planned, so he nods and Yuzu smiles, eyes crinkling in the corners. 

So damn endearing when he wants to, and Shoma is doomed to suffer for trusting him with his heart.

“Great!” Yuzu chirps and then he’s skating away, lining up for a quad loop and popping it to a double with an annoyed yelp. Shoma snickers and tries to get back into concentrating, starting up on his step sequence.

  


~*~

  


They end up watching anime instead, one of Shoma’s favorites, all curled up under the thin covers and propped up on the fluffy pillows. Shoma is lying half on top of Yuzu, snuggled comfortably in his arms. It’s one of the few times when he can really appreciate being smaller, getting to feel surrounded and safe like this.

It’s nice to just be together this way, huddled close, the shared contact emptying out his head. Shoma doesn’t even realize it when his eyelids begin to droop. When he comes to with a start, the vivid images of a dream leaving him momentarily stunned, it’s already getting dark outside.

He can feel Yuzu’s hand resting on the back of his neck. Shoma must have moved in his sleep, because he has managed to slide down, his head resting on Yuzu’s lap. He carefully cranes his neck to see what Yuzu’s up to. 

His laptop is open next to them, a bunch of text on the screen, and Yuzu is wearing his glasses. They’re sliding down his nose a bit and he looks cute this way, relaxed and propped up against the pillows.

“Bad dream?” Yuzu asks quietly.

Shoma thinks about it and shakes his head. He can’t remember much of what he dreamt about, but it felt more odd than scary.

“What are you doing?” Shoma asks and immediately yawns, his jaw cracking with the force of it.

Yuzu hums in amusement. “You can sleep more,” he points out with a raised eyebrow.

“Nah, I’m good,” Shoma says, and then proceeds to nuzzle Yuzu’s belly, eyes closing again. He hears Yuzu’s chuckle as much as he feels it vibrating against his ear.

“Whatever you say, Shoma.”

“No, really. I’m awake now,” he insists, voice muffled by the soft cotton shirt pressed against his face.

He’d be able to sense Yuzu’s snort from a mile away. “Yeah, I can see it,” he says in this really annoying tone he thinks is endearing. Shoma cracks an eye open.

“Yuzu,” he says after a while, then repeats it louder when he doesn’t get a reaction. 

“Mmm?” Yuzu hums, apparently having gone back to working on his laptop.

Shoma rolls around, so he can steal a glance at him. He can spot the olympic logo on the screen as Yuzu scrolls down on a webpage and it makes something inside him tighten unpleasantly.

“What’s gonna happen to us?”

He’s surprised by his own question almost as much as Yuzuru must be. Yuzu glances at him for a second and then back at the screen, but it’s clear he’s not reading anymore, his gaze unmoving.

“What do you mean?” he asks, tone deceptively casual.

Shoma flops on his back, stares at the ceiling. He’s always found it easier to say these things when he doesn’t have to look Yuzu in the eye.

“It’s the olympic season,” he starts, as if the rest of that sentence should be obvious. It isn’t. He doesn’t know what it is exactly that makes his stomach feel like it’s tangled in a knot half the time, so he can’t put it into words. 

Is he worried about this season? Yeah, a bit. Having to spend so much time apart and then meet again only to be pitted against each other isn’t something new to them, but the gravity of everything is going to be multiplied now, at least for Yuzu. It might not be as easy to concentrate. By the end of it all, it’s not gonna be easy to console him either. The bitterness might end up being too much, if things turn out bad.

Is he worried about everything after that? Well.

Thinking about the future can be scary, so Shoma simply prefers not to do it. He doesn’t have a clear cut plan for everything, like Yuzu probably does, and he’s hesitant to ask if Yuzu’s plans include Shoma in the long run. Shoma never had to consciously consider these things before. 

It’s always been about skating so far, and skating can be a bit stressful at certain times, but it’s familiar, like an old neighbor. On the other hand, this is unfamiliar territory, and Shoma’s only recently began to realize how unprepared he is to face it. He’s not used to being anxious over something like this, and it throws him off his feet at the most unpredictable times. Whenever he looks back to these momentary lapses, it’s like he can’t recognise himself.

Does Yuzu want this to be a long term thing? 

They’ve never really talked about it so far. It’s always been there, shimmering below the surface, but they both seemed quite eager to simply dance around it, a mutual silent agreement. The timing never seemed right. It’s easier to just enjoy the moment.

Shoma doesn’t know what to think about everything and Yuzu’s never pushed him to talk about it, nor mentioned anything himself. He does send him these weird looks from time to time, but Shoma’s not sure what they mean. 

He wonders if Yuzu ever tries to convince himself that he doesn’t need it to be more, that they’re fine the way they currently are, stolen moments here and there.

Everything is so frustrating.

“It’s not going to be that different, you know. It might sound a bit scary now, but when the time comes you’ll see that it’s not so bad,” Yuzu says, a bit reluctant. He pets Shoma’s hair and no, no, he’s got it all wrong now.

“No, I mean — ”

“Are you second guessing yourself?” Yuzu interrupts him, seemingly shocked at the notion.

“No, that’s not it.”

Yuzu’s fingers find his jaw, gently turning his face to look at him. “Then what?”

He looks confused yet so earnest, like he’s genuinely ready to chase away every single demon that’s been plaguing Shoma’s mind.

Shoma’s words are stuck in his throat, a giant spreading clot that leaves no room for air.

Yuzu leans back on the pillows, giving him space. “Sho, you have to tell me what you mean. Otherwise, I can’t be sure I understand.” A brief pause of hesitation. “Unless, you don’t want to, which is okay.”

“I mean us — ” Shoma starts, raises a hand to gesture between them. “The two of us.”

Yuzu frowns a little. When he responds it’s slow but steady.

“I’ll stick around after the shows for some work, so I’ll definitely see you then. After that, I’m not sure we’ll get a chance to meet before the final?” His expression morphs into a small smile. “But it’ll be great to have it here. It’s always different when it’s your home,” he murmurs fondly, then grimaces. “Even if the media is extra annoying.” He looks at the ceiling then, as if calculating in his mind. “I don’t think I’ll be doing four continents this season…“

He turns his gaze back to Shoma. “And, of course, nationals, and then we’ll go together to the Olympics.”

Shoma inhales sharply, the lump in his throat somehow getting bigger, choking him up.

The lack of a clear cut way of improving things leaves him frustrated. With skating it’s easy. Practice, practice hard until he can’t stand. But this is different. Shoma is not very experienced, but he knows that relationships don’t just happen to work out because of effort alone. You can try a lot and still be left hanging. It’s not a math equation. 

But doing nothing sounds like giving up and Shoma doesn’t like that. He steals a glance at Yuzu’s way, tries to gauge if he looks like he’s ready to give up. They have to meet halfway, combine their efforts to somehow make this work. It might just work.

It might not.

“What if this doesn’t work out?” The words push themselves out of his mouth and it’s like an avalanche, because suddenly he can’t stop. “What’s gonna happen when we get tired of seeing each other only twice a year? What if you end up disliking me when you’re so far away? What if _I_ end up disliking you? What if — ” Shoma pushes up on his elbows, gaze burning into Yuzu. “What if it’s just not enough? And all this, it turns out to be for nothing? Then what?”

Yuzu looks stunned for a moment at this outburst, eyes wide. He doesn’t say anything, eyes dancing back and forth, trying to take it all in. 

Shoma flops on his back again, covers his eyes with a hand when he feels the first sting of frustrated tears. He hates crying and the thought of Yuzu seeing him like this unsettles him even more. But the more he tries to keep his breathing under control the more he feels like his lungs are ready to burst under the pressure of all the unanswered questions. He exhales loudly when Yuzu puts a hand on his shoulder. He’s not sure if Yuzu touching him right now can be comforting or if it will just make him lose whatever’s left of his self control.

Yuzu seems to sense this, because he keeps his touch light, rubbing gently.

“Shoma, we don’t know what’s gonna happen. And it’s okay, I think, not to know. No one does. Let’s — ” he curls his fingers around Shoma’s shoulder. “Unless you don’t want to, let’s just do this? Keep going?” His voice is hushed when he continues. “I don’t know how things will turn out a year from now, but I’ll never think that this is meaningless, that it doesn’t matter. I — ”

A pause.

“I care about you a lot, I really do. No matter what happens, the time I get to spend with you will never be something I consider wasted,” he finishes quietly, honestly.

Shoma pushes the heels of his palms to his eyes as he soaks up the meaning of Yuzu’s words.

“Shoma?” Worry bleeds into his voice.

“Okay,” Shoma says, mouth set tight. He’s not sure it feels like it’s enough, but it’ll have to do for now. The reassurance that Yuzu wants this and is willing to keep trying, perhaps as much as Shoma does. Maybe more. Who knows.

“Okay,” Yuzu repeats and then pulls him into his arms, Shoma’s face pressed into the crook of his neck, his shoulders hunched. 

“I really, really care about you too,” Shoma whispers wetly and he can almost hear the wistful smile in Yuzu’s voice when he responds.

“Mmm, it makes me happy.”

Shoma squeezes his eyes shut. He thought that with this kind of confirmation he’d be mollified, but it just makes the tears fall faster, his breathing a series of quiet hiccups. Yuzu holds him so tight, a solid welcoming weight. They’re pressed together close enough that Shoma can feel Yuzu’s heart beating a mile an hour behind his thin ribs. It makes it that much harder to calm himself down, despite the soothing words whispered in his ear.

“I’ll miss you,” Shoma says and Yuzu sounds a bit choked up when he pulls back slightly to press their foreheads together. He must have taken off his glasses at some point, and there’s a red indent left behind on the bridge of his nose.

“Me too. But we’re both here now.”

Yuzu presses a gentle kiss under his eye, where the thin skin is still wet, and then stretches towards the nightstand to get some tissues. He dabs Shoma’s face and makes him blow his nose as if he’s still a little kid, laughing warmly at him. Shoma laughs too, feeling ridiculous and vulnerable. There’s relief spreading to his limbs now as he slumps into Yuzu’s chest, his heartbeat finally starting to slow down.

“I’m here, Shoma,” Yuzu breathes next to his ear, pressing a small kiss to it.

Shoma falls asleep like this, emotionally drained, but at peace, for now. 

  


~*~

  


Shoma quickly notices that he doesn’t feel much different after that night. Initially, he had expected that after voicing out his worries he’d be more relieved, but he can’t really do that when Yuzu keeps sending him these long, crestfallen looks every time he thinks Shoma doesn’t pay attention. 

At first, Shoma thinks that Yuzu is upset, that their recent talk triggered in him the same kind of dread that’s been hanging over Shoma’s own head. 

But then a nagging thought starts worming its way into his head. He considers the possibility of Yuzu having calculated this from the start, how limited their time together would be, and having long since made peace with the idea that in the grand scheme of things a relationship is the first thing to be cast aside. It hurts to think of it this way, but it wouldn’t be the first time Yuzu would choose to sacrifice something held close to his heart if it meant more chances at achieving his goals. 

Shoma can’t really blame him for it.

He spends the next couple days fidgety, every doubt he thought he’d managed to wash away coming back with a vengeance and pressing down on him like a stuffy blanket. He wonders if perhaps Yuzu’s already decided when the expiration date should be, the same way he’s apparently planned his whole competitive life up to this point. If that’s why he had the soothing words prepared, not really making any promises, just putting up tape over the cracks as usual. Maybe he just doesn’t want to upset Shoma until the time is right and the clock finally stops ticking.

He briefly entertains the thought that Yuzu might be hurt that Shoma seems to be doubting or even criticizing his willingness to commit, but it’s easier to linger on the uglier ones. 

Maybe it’s an overwhelming sense of guilt or even self-doubt that makes Yuzu all the more attentive. He’s always got an eye on him now whenever Shoma is around, and it’s a little unnerving. And Shoma knows that Yuzu doesn’t particularly enjoy sleeping tangled up with someone else, but his new favorite thing seems to be having Shoma trapped against his chest every night, holding him close. He still ends up rolling away in his sleep, twisting and kicking around, yet stubbornly tries the same thing the very next time. 

Shoma is already more exhausted than usual from the mess in his head and from having to wake up in the ungodly hours of the dawn to make it back to his room. On top of that, having to wrestle with what feels like a human sized octopus, when he’s supposed to be sleeping instead, is starting to take a toll on his meager energy reserves and make him cranky.

It’s like Yuzu’s walking on eggshells around him, and it’s exhausting, but talking to him about it sounds like an even more exhausting conversation. And, if he’s being honest with himself, Shoma’s afraid to ask, because that would make everything more real, all the scary possibilities. So he partially surrenders to it, accepts that for the next couple of days Yuzu is going to be a tense, overbearing, awkward mess, and then hopefully he’ll get over it and calm down enough for Shoma to calm down as well and enjoy the tour.

He still wishes Yuzu would realize that he doesn’t have to force himself to exaggerate his affection in some weird kind of compensation, that their easy kind of intimacy and closeness that Shoma’s used to is enough, for now. 

He misses being around him when they’re both fully comfortable and relaxed, instead of having a hundred thoughts racing through his brain, attempting to make sense of that weird tension in the air. He’s tired of playing guessing games, constantly trying to figure out what might be going through Yuzu’s mind, never had much patience for that stuff. He’s left unsure, though, on how to approach the subject without igniting another tearfest or making it seem like a rejection on his part.

Being on the ice helps silence the noise in his head, and Shoma finds himself the most calm when his practice time doesn’t coincide with Yuzu’s. It’s a nice opportunity to breathe, even if every move has become twice as strenuous with the added exhaustion in his limbs.

A part of him is aware that this must be taxing on Yuzu too, constantly being on edge when Shoma’s around, waking up from his restless sleep just to walk him to the door every dawn. Yuzu’s not the type to nap, but he’s been doing that more lately, so it’s not like he’s completely unaffected by this either. Shoma isn’t sure if that makes him feel better or worse.

It doesn’t make sense, for them to finally be in the same place and still have so much trouble being together. 

Sighing deeply, Shoma hangs his head back as he glides on the ice slowly, no energy left in him for anything fancy. He just got up from a nasty fall and his right ankle and shin are still smarting from it. He can’t tell for sure if there’s blood, but every time his training pants drag over his leg it stings.

He halfheartedly enters into a spin, trying to keep his form and failing, ending up sprawled like a starfish, bits of ice shavings caught in his hair. He’s glad he’s the last one left in the rink, so he can stay like this for a little while; quiet, undisturbed, fighting down the frustration. 

The ceiling doesn’t offer any answers and he eventually musters the energy to push himself up, calling it a day.

He’s surprised to spot Yuzu at the edge of the rink as he gets up. Yuzu’s expression looks slightly pained before he quickly averts his eyes, caught, then looks at him with a thin smile. As if he hadn’t been watching Shoma like a hawk. 

A tiny cruel part of Shoma wants to blame Yuzu for this, for being so tired and his head feeling so fuzzy. But this would mean that Shoma’s letting this mess get to him on the ice, and his pride denies that vehemently.

He considers lingering around a bit longer in hopes that he can delay whatever conversation Yuzu has planned, in hopes that eventually he’ll be able to find the right words for everything he needs to say without resorting to frustrated huffs or shutting down mid-talk because he gets overwhelmed. But his leg is screaming at him, so he grits his teeth and heads to where Yuzu awaits.

There’s a slightly awkward moment of fumbling as Yuzu hands him his guards and helps him off the ice when he stumbles. Maybe it’s because he’s so adamant on focusing on something else other than Yuzu, looking so concerned next to him, but the stinging pain in his leg seems to get worse with every step. Yuzu makes a worried noise at his limping, guides him to sit down in one of the seats.

“Where does it hurt?” Yuzu asks as he gently rolls up Shoma’s pants to take a look.

Shoma wants to point out that he can take care of himself, has been doing so for months and years when Yuzu hadn’t been there. But then Yuzu lets out a harsh breath, his expression tight and alarmed, and Shoma realizes that there’s actually quite a lot of blood smudged down his shin.

“Don’t move and don’t touch it,” Yuzu hisses, pinning Shoma with a stern look before jogging towards the backstage area. Shoma can faintly hear him talk with some staff, but it’s not loud enough to catch what’s being said. The scratches on his leg don’t look deep, so he’s not that worried about them, mostly cares about the slight discomfort in his ankle. 

It doesn’t take long for Yuzu to make it back, clutching a first aid kit and an ice bag. Shoma has unlaced his skates already, touched the area around his ankle. There are no signs of swelling, but he accepts the ice gratefully as Yuzu kneels in front of him and starts cleaning up his leg.

“You know, you need to stop babying me so much,” Shoma says abruptly, then recoils at the hurt look Yuzu gives him. That’s not exactly how he meant for it to sound.

“Sorry,” Yuzu replies and averts his eyes, slow and quiet, like it pains him to do so. “Just — Let me do this, okay?” he murmurs as he discards the dirty cotton pads to the side. He works meticulously, patching Shoma up with the experience of someone who’s had to do this countless times before. After stealing a glance around to make sure they’re still alone, he finishes with a tender kiss on his knee, right on a fading bruise, and Shoma flushes. He just told Yuzuru he can take care of himself and now he’s all mushy from such a risky sign of affection.

“Come on,” Yuzu whispers, helps Shoma to the locker room, and Shoma leans on him despite the fact that he can walk fine on his own. 

He considers all the times he’s had someone take care of him like this before; of Mihoko softly patting his back and always making sure he has everything he needs, of Itsuki finding the things he keeps carelessly misplacing, of his mom’s cooking and cleaning. 

Shoma knows that it’s easy for people to dot on him and he’s partially guilty too, with his habit of soaking it all up so easily. Taking Yuzu’s overt affection for granted, not really giving it much thought; just something Shoma got used to and accepted at face value. When in one of his warmer moods, Yuzu eagerly keeps on giving, and Shoma just takes more and more, perhaps making it seem like it’s never enough. 

He stomps down on the thought that maybe Yuzu insists on being so affectionate while he still can, because he knows it won’t be for much longer. 

He thinks about Yuzu being touchy even before they started this, how he’d look so comfortable constantly putting his hands everywhere on anyone, a being of constant motion, seeking closeness the same way a flower leans towards the sun. Shoma is more reserved, nowhere near as touchy, unless it’s during sex.

He’s perfectly aware he’s thinking himself into a corner, his thoughts getting tangled in the most ridiculous ways, hardly making any sense.

Yuzu reluctantly leaves him to go through his cool down routine alone and Shoma is grateful for it. He goes through the motions mechanically, his mind on overdrive.

Over the past season he’s gotten so used to Yuzu offering a lending ear without really accepting the offer when Shoma would return the favor, and he doesn’t know if Yuzu’s doing it because of pride or out of habit of being extremely private. Yuzu often mentions how much his family keeps supporting him in his lowest points and doesn’t seem to understand how much Shoma wants to be part of that. 

It sits heavy on him, the weight of the thought that when it comes down to it he’s probably on the same side where the rest of the world is held at arm’s length away from Yuzuru Hanyu; a distant voice of support that Yuzu’s eternally grateful for, just not enough to let him in too close.

He wants Yuzu to trust him with his moments of weakness too, to reach out for him too, so it’s not just Shoma constantly unloading his feelings onto him. He’s tired of the nagging guilt from feeling like he’s burdening Yuzu and stealing his time. It’s been getting harder to text him the last few months, constantly erasing and rewriting what he wants to say out of fear it might be too much.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter if Yuzu’s skin is stuck to his, their sweat and breaths mingling as they press against each other, coming undone. As long as Yuzu shuts his mind off afterwards, that feeling of imbalance is going to linger and stain even the smallest interaction between them.

Shoma rubs at his face. The irony of perpetuating this situation by not saying anything about it is loud and clear in the back of his head, but his thoughts are a mess and he’s too tired to untangle them. 

He decides to drop it for now, focus on his stretching. He towels at his sweat in a haste, skipping the shower in favor of washing up back at the hotel, aware that Yuzu’s waiting for him outside.

Yuzu’s talking with someone from the staff again when Shoma gets to the lobby, dragging his bag behind him. He hadn’t realized how late it was, the building mostly empty at this hour. He fishes out his phone while discreetly lingering back for Yuzu to finish his conversation, and goes through his texts. There’s one from his mom and two from Itsuki that he reads through quickly, and then lingers on the ones from Yuzu. There’s a few.

_“Do you wanna go on a date?? It’s been a while!”_

_“We can get meat! There’s a nice place someone recommended, I think you’ll like it.”_

_“Are you still at practice???”_

_“Do you wanna meet at the hotel?”_

_“Unless you’re tired? We can stay inside if you want, order room service.”_

_“Shoma?? Did you die???”_

_“Oh no I guess this means more meat for me. GREAT”_

Shoma rolls his eyes but can’t help a small smile at the dramatic exclamations. Right now he’s just tired, physically and mentally, and in need of a shower. The meat offer is tempting, but staying inside sprawled on Yuzu’s bed sounds even better. A combination of both would be ideal, and Shoma’s belly rumbles at the thought.

He’s casually scrolling through his feed when an article catches his eye. It’s about Yuzu and his supposedly inconsistent performance, the difficulty he seems to face on landing the quad loop even in the recent ice shows. It brings up his disappointing appearance at the team trophy, posing the question of whether he’s on the right path for the important upcoming season. While the tone is not as vitriolic as some things Shoma’s read before, it’s still quite bad. He frowns when he sees his own name make an appearance, rolls his eyes at the inevitable comparison between them and the mention of their ‘heated’ rivalry. He gives up after skimming through a couple comments, cruel and careless words exchanged behind the safety of one’s phone or computer screen. 

He wonders how many times Yuzu had to ignore similar things in the past, silently put on a smile and keep going, not really offering much more than a _“Press can be bad, it doesn’t matter,”_ and then shifting the focus away from himself, asking about Shoma. 

A strange mix of irritation, bitter helplessness and guilt begins to swirl in the pit of his stomach. Right on time, Yuzu appears in front of him, frown back in place and mouth twisting downwards.

“Let’s go back? I don’t want you walking around on that,” he nods in the direction of Shoma’s leg and for a moment Shoma oddly feels like a child getting scolded, something humiliating and bitter gnawing irrationally at his insides.

“My ankle is okay, I can walk perfectly fine,” Shoma snaps, the slight irritation from before seeping into his voice, making Yuzu’s eyes narrow slightly. He doesn’t respond immediately, instead regarding Shoma with a calculating gaze, before his expression smooths out.

“Alright,” he says at last, then turns and walks towards the entrance. For a moment Shoma stupidly thinks he’s just going to walk out and leave, but Yuzu waits for him, holding the door open. To any casual bystander he’d look perfectly composed, but Shoma’s been around enough to spot his tight jaw, the way his mouth is stuck in a half smile that doesn’t feel quite genuine.

The parking lot is close enough, but not that close that Shoma doesn’t start to feel the ache in his tired legs, the strain from carrying his bag after being on the ice for so long. Yuzu walks faster than normal and Shoma doesn’t know if it’s on purpose because he’s acting petulant or if he’s just lost in his thoughts, fidgety and moving on autopilot. 

Shoma almost feels a little bad for his snide tone earlier, but there’s the beginning of a headache building between his eyes and he doesn’t have the capacity to care as much as he would have liked. They’re both silent on the ride to the hotel.

Back in the hotel, he belatedly realizes after stepping into the elevator that Yuzu has pressed the buttons for both of their floors, silently letting him choose whether he’d like to go back to his own room or not. Shoma pointedly doesn’t get off at his floor, keeping his eyes on the sliding doors, and he can sense some of the nervous energy leaving Yuzu at that.

The first thing Shoma does when in Yuzu’s room is head for the bathroom, his need for a shower overpowering everything else. He leaves his clothes in a messy pile on the floor and finally feels his shoulders relax under the hot spray, tension washing away. He almost falls asleep like this, standing up, but jolts back to awareness when there’s a knock on the door.

“Are you still hungry?” Yuzu asks, voice mellow. It feels too much like an attempt at reconciliation for an argument that didn’t even happen. Or perhaps it did in Yuzu’s head. 

“Yeah,” Shoma replies after a bit, hopefully loud enough to carry over the running water. Yuzu doesn’t say anything else, which he takes as confirmation of being heard.

Shoma takes his time drying down, feeling a bit sluggish after staying too much in the steamy bathroom. The band aids were supposed to be waterproof but they’re already slightly peeling off at the edges, and he makes a mental note to check on them again before going to bed, just in case he needs to replace them. 

The TV is on to some variety show when he pads barefoot back outside, still wrapped in a bathrobe that’s too big for him, but Yuzu doesn’t seem to be paying attention to it, hunched over his phone instead. He lets out an amused noise when Shoma flops face down next to him on the bed. The lines on his face look more relaxed and he smiles, albeit a little timidly, when he catches Shoma staring.

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” he says, too quiet and soft for someone who’s supposed to be keeping Shoma awake. Yuzu buries a hand in Shoma’s hair and combs it back, keeps carding his fingers through it, and Shoma exhales loudly and sinks deeper into the bed, his body going completely lax.

Yuzu’s touch lingers on the side of his face for a while. His voice is still quiet when he speaks again.

“Do you dislike it that much? When I take care of you like this?”

Shoma scrunches his eyes and lets out a small noise of protest, not sure if he wants to dig this up all over again when he’s just started relaxing. It was supposed to be simple; eat, then let Yuzu’s comforting touch lull him to sleep. No other thoughts, just him and the fluffy pillows and the warm fingers in his hair. 

“Why didn’t you say so before? I always thought you liked it,” Yuzu continues, and there’s so much hurt in his voice despite him trying to keep a casual front, and there’s that growing knot in Shoma’s throat again, chasing away the sleepiness. It’s like he keeps messing up, one thing after the other.

When Shoma turns on his side and glances at Yuzu he’s reminded of that night almost a year ago, of that same look in his wide eyes.

_Do you want this, Shoma?_

The same uncertainty hidden under the shadows cast on his face by the dim lights of a hallway. Steeling himself for some kind of rejection.

Yuzu always appears so confident, it’s easy to forget that he’s got his own set of doubts digging deep into his bones.

“No, I like it,” Shoma starts, tries to pick the right words. His gaze lingers on Yuzu’s wrist, where he’s wearing a beaded bracelet Shoma got him last Christmas. The sight ignites a familiar warm fluttering in his chest that swallows up his previous frustration, the lingering doubts, the fear. 

This past year, even before that, Yuzu’s been coaxing him to open up, perhaps waiting for Shoma to do the same in return, unable to let go by himself. There’s a sudden clarity in the realization of how utterly stupid he’s been, overthinking himself into a corner, when Yuzu is right here, real and warm and like Shoma’s words are the only thing keeping him from sinking into a pool of his own uncertainty.

It makes it easier, what he needs to say. “I’d just like it more if I could take care of you too, sometimes.”

Yuzu is still staring at him with big eyes, but it’s different now; relief and wonder, surprise, confusion. His lips are slightly parted, pink and inviting. He’s blushing.

“Oh,” he starts and leans closer, as if he wants to drop a kiss to Shoma’s forehead, but doesn’t. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like I don’t trust you enough,” Yuzu says, barely above a whisper. His eyelashes look much longer when he’s so close, fanning over his still warm cheeks. 

Shoma shakes his head and pushes up to his elbows.

He’s still bracing himself for Yuzu to get a little defensive over this, knows how strongly he values control, over his mind, his body, his surroundings. But, for now, he just looks flustered and shy and at a loss for words. It’s a good sign, and Shoma feels silly when he considers it now, how hesitant he’s been over sharing this with him.

“I like it, because it feels,” he pauses, thinking it over. “Safe. Comfortable. But, I want you to have this too. I think it’s unfair if I’m constantly the only one.” He falters a bit. “Sometimes it makes me feel like a spoiled kid.”

“You’re not spoiled, just cute,” Yuzu rushes to say, then bites his lip. “I mean — It’s just so… easy? To look after you, after doing it for so long. It feels normal."

“I know,” Shoma says with an exaggerated sigh, like cuteness is too heavy of a burden for anyone to bear. Yuzu cracks a smile and reaches for his hand, playing with his fingers. “And I like it, but you don’t have to push yourself to — to exaggerate or — make a show out of it just to prove something?” Yuzu narrows his eyes slightly at that and Shoma grimaces with a tilt of his head. “I want you to be comfortable and talk to me about things that really trouble you, because then, I think, I can be more comfortable too.”

He pauses for a second, looks at the splay of Yuzu’s hands on top of his. His fingers are long and elegant, while Shoma’s are shorter, looking slightly childlike in comparison. 

“I’m tired of overthinking, but it feels like it’s all I’ve been doing lately. I want to spend time with you without being so unsure about all the things that might be going through your head. I’d also like to sleep without you kicking me,” he adds the last part in a hurried breath.

Yuzu’s eyebrows shoot up. “I kick you in my sleep?”

Shoma snorts at the fact that out of all things Yuzu decided to get hung up over that last part.

“You have no idea,” he nods with a pained smile. “Also, you have pretty sharp elbows.”

Yuzu looks caught between wanting to laugh and apologize at the same time. The apology wins over eventually.

“Sorry. I didn’t know I was that much of a hazard.”

“It’s not funny,” Shoma says with pursed lips. “I barely get any sleep, with you acting like an angry koala and with my alarm ringing literally 5 minutes after I finally manage to close my eyes.”

At this, the amusement fades out of Yuzu’s face altogether.

“Sorry,” he repeats, automatically. “About that… I already arranged for us to share a room next week.”

Now it’s Shoma’s turn to be slightly taken aback. So far, Yuzu’s been quite particular about not being too obvious around others. Specifically requesting that they room together doesn’t sound like something he’d do.

“It’s not right, that you’re always the one who has to sneak around,” Yuzu is still playing with his fingers and his gaze is focused there, but he glances at Shoma sidelong next. “But, if you’d prefer to be alone and I only make it worse, I can ask them to change it. Maybe you should sleep in your room tonight?”

“What? No,” Shoma frowns then shakes his head. The last thing he wants is Yuzu pulling away once again because he believes that’s what Shoma needs. “I like sleeping here with you, I just want you to go back to how you were before.”

When Yuzu just gives him a confused look Shoma huffs and tries to be more specific.

“You didn’t always suffocate me in your sleep. You only started after — you know. When I cried.”

Yuzu is silent for a bit after that, staring at their entwined fingers again.

“It’s like I’ve been doing everything wrong lately,” he mutters, but it’s not dejected. Instead, he sounds like he’s more annoyed at himself. “I just don’t want you to think that I’m gonna up and leave at the first chance without a word. I know things can be difficult with the distance and competing… I know _I_ can be difficult sometimes. But I — I want this to work out.” 

_I can be difficult._

Shoma thinks back to Yuzu’s tight expression in a badly lit backstage area, of him shying away whenever Shoma tried to catch his eyes; denying the reassurance, closing in on himself. Focused. Intense. His bleak expression after an unsatisfying performance or practice, not replying to Shoma’s messages for days, unable to face anyone before facing himself first. The sudden shift after getting back on his feet, the way his laugh would turn bubbly again, his body demanding against Shoma’s. 

The constant push and pull, rubbing them both raw at times. 

But also the quiet hesitation, slowly warming up to the idea that someone is waiting for a goodnight message on the other side of the world, the easy laughs and his long fingers getting tangled into Shoma’s hair. Shoma conking out with his shoes still on and waking up under the blankets with his socks off, the mess in his hotel room tidied up, his clothes carefully folded. The long nights accompanied by longer calls, Yuzu’s voice sleepy yet smooth and calm, encouraging without being patronizing; sincere. Yuzu on his back, deliciously flushed, needy, pulling Shoma against him and inside him, open and trusting. 

That one disastrous evening of getting lost while trying to find the right restaurant, because Shoma is hopeless with directions and Yuzu is even more hopeless in trusting him with the task. The heavy drizzle somehow making Yuzu’s laugh all the more infectious, despite their silly predicament. The memory of barely making it back to the hotel, giggly and drenched and shivering. Sharing a blanket afterwards, all rolled up like a burrito, their stomachs’ rumbling trying to rival the noise of distant thunder. 

Yuzu is looking at him now, eyes wide and unblinking. It would be a lie to say that Shoma hadn’t seen him look scared before, because he has, but there’s something new and strange in the way he holds himself, like he’s almost physically bracing for some kind of impact. 

“I’m serious about it.” 

Shoma’s eyebrows pull up, then the corner of his mouth follows. He can feel the tension reaching a crescendo in his chest, then dissipating, that constant painful pressure in his belly finally starting to uncoil little by little.

“Good. I’m serious too.”

Yuzu still looks a little shaken, a little lost at the admission, his eyes skirting around as he swallows dryly. Shoma pulls himself closer so he can rub their noses together.

“I can’t believe I made you cry,” Yuzu whispers. 

Shoma wraps a hand around the back of his neck, holds Yuzu steady as he kisses him, sudden and just on the side of rough, a small outburst after the pent up confusion and frustration. Yuzu lets out a small surprised sound but doesn’t resist the insistent press of Shoma’s tongue, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his fingers strong and steady on Shoma’s jaw.

Shoma pulls back just enough to reply, “Stop apologizing, that wasn’t your fault.” Then he’s pushing against Yuzu again, getting up on his knees to reach him better.

“But _something_ was my fault, whatever made you feel horrible in the first place,” Yuzu murmurs with a pained expression. He tugs at Shoma until he’s settled comfortably on his lap, arms hanging loosely around his waist. Shoma kisses him again, less intense this time, the drag of his mouth slow against Yuzu’s pouting lips. 

“You can talk to me about stuff, things that make _you_ feel weak. You don’t have to hide it. That’s all,” Shoma says, no lingering hesitation this time.

Yuzu stiffens slightly and his grip at Shoma’s waist tightens. His eyes are a bit glassy, but he makes a point of holding Shoma’s gaze when he nods and hums an affirmation. Shoma can’t be sure if he wholeheartedly means it, but it’s a start and he feels accomplished for that at least. Yuzu places a lingering, sweet kiss on his nose and Shoma breaks into a smile, returning the favor.

They stay that way for a while, exchanging slow, light kisses, until there’s a knock on the door. For a second Shoma freezes in panic and then hurriedly rolls away from Yuzu, hastily pulling the duvet over himself, curling into a ball. 

“I’m not here,” he hisses and kicks at Yuzu when he just sits there giggling.

“It’s probably just your food,” Yuzu says, clearly amused, and finally goes to answer the door.

Shoma holds his breath throughout the quiet conversation that barely reaches his ears over the sound of the TV still playing in the background, keeping completely still just in case. It feels like an eternity before he recognizes the sound of the door closing. He emerges out of the covers dramatically, panting harshly, his hair sticking to his forehead and his bathrobe almost slipping off his shoulders. Yuzu has the audacity to laugh right in his face, and the only reason Shoma doesn’t throw a pillow at him is because of the peace offering he’s holding.

“You know you can’t really see the bed from the door, right?” Yuzu asks pointedly as he dangles the bento box right in front of Shoma.

“You should thank me for protecting your dignity and reputation,” Shoma reminds him and snatches the box right out of his hands. The delicious aroma of food is already filling the room and his belly rumbles loudly in anticipation.

“If you get it on the sheets you’re sleeping on that side,” Yuzu warns jokingly as he digs into his backpack, fishing out his gaming console and throwing himself on the bed again.

“When have I ever done that?” Shoma protests with a half hearted scoff, because he’s too busy reaching for the chopsticks, the sight of the meat in front of him making his mouth water.

“Never, because I always warn you about it,” Yuzu replies sweetly, opens his mouth obediently when Shoma holds a piece of carrot out to him. 

“When will you stop trying to sneak in vegetables?”

“It’s just my way of feeding us both for the price of one,” Yuzu bats his eyelashes and giggles when Shoma pushes him away with a disgusted expression, although he comes back for a piece of tomato. He shies away when Shoma waves a piece of bell pepper in his direction.

“You’re just as bad,” Shoma says smugly, eating the damn thing just for the joy of watching Yuzu cringe.

“Ewh,” Yuzu sticks out his tongue before turning his attention to his game.

Shoma keeps an eye on him while eating, taking in the relaxed lines of his body. It’s strangely amusing, how stone faced Yuzu tends to be while gaming, concentrated, unless his frustration gets too much. Like it does now.

“I’ve been stuck here for two days, I can’t get past the Titan,” he whines.

“That's because you don't buff properly,” Shoma supplies helpfully, taking pity on him. 

Yuzu has the nerve to stare at him as if he’s some kind of amateur. “I've got armor to do that for me, Sho.”

“Yeah, and it does a shit job at it, obviously,” Shoma deadpans. 

Yuzu looks so offended, it's hilarious. “You don't even know what kind of armor I have equipped," he points out.

"Sure I do, that crap with the fire nulling effect.”

Yuzu looks ready to respond in vehemence, but then narrows his eyes in suspicion.

“Have you been messing with my game?”

“No, I just know you, and I know you’d go for that because of the fire rings.”

Yuzu deflates like a shaggy balloon. Shoma stays quiet, trying not to smirk while watching him squirm internally.

After a moment Yuzu finally gives up. “Okay then, game master Shoma, if not that armor then what do I need?” he asks through pursed lips.

Shoma smiles, pleased and smug as he grabs another bite of meat and lets Yuzu hang for a bit. He chews slowly, savoring every second. Yuzu raises an eyebrow and tries to look unimpressed, but his finger is tapping on his console, waiting.

“I accept payment in the form of meat,” Shoma says at last, sweetly, and then laughs when Yuzu rubs at the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Shoma, I'm already feeding you. Right now in fact, if you hadn't noticed."

Shoma pretends to be shocked. “Really? Well, in that case I accept payment in the form of future meals."

Yuzu tries to keep a straight face but it crumbles so easily. He makes a half hearted attempt to hide his growing smile behind a fake huff of annoyance, but then giggles, resigned.

"Okay, okay, I promise. Now. Spill."

“You know you could have just looked it up on the internet right?” Shoma feels the need to point out, just to rub it in.

“I trust you better,” Yuzu responds absentmindedly, eyes focused on his console. It’s a casual admission, but Shoma feels like there’s something blooming inside him at those words.

He scoots a little closer so he can look at the small screen. While waiting for the game to load he takes another bite, then gestures to whatever’s left of the bento box. 

“You sure you don’t want any?” He knows Yuzu would never say yes, but still wants to be considerate. 

Yuzu looks at him from under his eyelashes before leaning in and licking at Shoma’s greasy lips. He smacks his mouth loudly, almost obscenely, when he pulls back. “Delicious,” he murmurs with a sultry smile, then breaks into a fit of giggles at Shoma’s blushing face and the way he furiously stuffs the last bites of his meal into his mouth.

“Shut up, shut up,” Shoma says, all high pitched, and Yuzu outright laughs at him now, then covers his mouth with a hand and pretends to be composed as he leans back on an elbow, although his smile lingers for the rest of the night.

  


~*~

  


It’s their last night in Kobe and Shoma’s so riled up, even before the show ends. He got to watch Yuzu’s performance from behind the safety of the dark curtains and it was like a blow to his solar plexus. It’s funny, because Shoma usually gets bored after a while of watching others’ performances, but with Yuzu that’s never been the case.

He is not particularly fond of Yuzu’s costume for Ballade, actually preferred the old one with the dark belt that seemed to elongate his legs. But even that would still feel unfitting for what the program’s ended up being. When Shoma first got to watch it there was something dreamy about it, soft and gentle. Then, last year in Boston, it somehow got twisted into something much sharper, almost violent. 

And today… Well.

He wonders if the reason it looks so sensual to him now is because of this new side to their relationship, the different way he’s allowed himself to look at Yuzu. He still can’t stomach the costume though, much prefers to watch him in his practice clothes, his lovely lines on display. 

There had also been the opening and the finale. Yuzu wearing those cat ears and the blue ribbon around his long neck, snapping his wrists in an imitation of a cat. They were all things Shoma hadn’t been prepared for, both cute and impish at the same time. Most of all, Shoma was transfixed with the sweat drenching his face and the flush of exertion that spread all the way down his neck, the way he threw his head back in satisfaction, grinning wildly. 

Shoma wanted nothing more than to lick at the tiny droplets making their way down his skin and kiss him senseless, burrow close and watch him fall apart under his hands. 

He wants to tell him so, but there are too many people around and the lights are harsh in the backstage area. In the end he simply high-fives him and watches as Yuzu’s eyes crinkle into a smile before he’s whisked away for the post show interviews. Shoma’s calmed down by the time they make it back to the hotel and he’s so tired that he passes out in his own room and doesn’t wake up until next morning.

True to Yuzu’s promise, they share a room in Niigata. Nobu doesn’t mention anything, pleased with his new single room, although he does get this weird glint in his eye when he spots them in front of the same door. Yuzu doesn’t seem to mind the implication of it, so Shoma shrugs it off.

They’re both scheduled for afternoon practice the next day and, even though Shoma knows that’s probably not the case, it’s like Yuzu is going the extra mile to make himself look as appealing as possible. He’s less playful and more intense with the way he stretches his arms in abandon, how he throws his head back during his ina bauer, eyes fluttering shut. The tight training outfit he’s wearing does wonders to showcase every dip and curve of his body as Yuzu stretches his legs out in consecutive spirals for his cool down routine. 

Shoma has to force himself to look away and he takes a desperate gulp from his bottle, trying to calm himself down. It’s a bit of an alien feeling, wanting to be so close to someone else, being one to usually shy away from physical touch. But Shoma wants to touch him so badly, just bury himself in his chest and feel the tiny vibrations of his heartbeat, the comforting warmth of his body. 

At this point he’s halfway convinced that perhaps Yuzu is doing this on purpose. He makes sure to tell him so in a hushed whisper when he drops by to grab a tissue, everything he’s wanted to say after the last show ended bubbling up in a series of jumbled words in Yuzu’s ear. 

It’s a first for him, and Shoma is sure he’s blushing more than usual, the redness of exertion spreading from his jaw up to his cheeks until it swallows his whole face. 

His throat tightens at the way Yuzu’s fingers twist in his shirt in response, wrinkling it up. Yuzu’s eyes are glazed over when he pulls away and rounds the rink again, leaning backwards on a shaky attempt at a cantilever. It’s not very pretty, his back too stiff and his weight not balanced well enough to make it look anywhere near effortless, but Shoma can’t tear his gaze away from the way Yuzu’s legs are spread, his thighs straining from the effort. He switches to a besti afterwards which works significantly better for him, legs still wide open. 

Shoma hides his face in a tissue that he balls up and throws at Yuzu’s face when he gets close enough again.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he accuses under his breath. That might not have been the case at first, but this last one was definitely meant to rattle him.

Yuzu returns his gaze with sparkling eyes, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he picks up the balled up tissue to dispose of it properly. “Maybe,” he says.

He grabs Shoma’s hands to pull him in a twirl, pretends to tango with him and even dips him to a chorus of laughter from the rest of the spectators. Yuzu is once again taking advantage of the fact that he’s taller and Shoma plays along, smiles through the heat that keeps spreading in his belly.

He remembers well what Yuzu looked like last week, with his head thrown back as he repeatedly shouted out his thanks to the audience. It can get so hot in the venue, with all the lights and the crowd being so close to the ice, but Yuzu was so flushed as if his whole body was stretched thin around a burning star.

He’s more subdued now, but it’s enough to bring these images back to Shoma’s head and make him lose his focus. By the end of practice he’s so worked up he’s scared it’ll somehow show on his face, like a blinking sign for every innocent bystander to witness.

It’s a losing battle he’s fighting, trying to keep his composure through dinner with the rest of the japanese skaters until they’re back to the hotel, in their shared room. It still feels a little alien, the sight of two beds where Shoma used to see one, how there’s room for him to actually throw his clothes when he takes them off instead of pilling everything on a chair.

Yuzu doesn’t kiss him for long, holes himself up in the bathroom, insisting he needs another shower with how much he’s been sweating. Shoma wants to repeat that it’s fine, he doesn’t care, as long as he can get him on one of the beds and suck kisses into his skin until it’s pink and hot to the touch again, like it is after his skating.

He curls up on his bed, naked, and resists the urge to touch himself. He’ll wait.

Yuzu doesn’t even bother with a towel when he gets back, his hair still mostly wet. He is half hard already and Shoma’s mouth goes dry when Yuzu climbs on the bed and crawls on top of him, throwing the bottle of lube on their side. His smell is intoxicating.

“I only did one, wanted you for more,” he whispers hotly against Shoma’s mouth and Shoma feels a rush of heat to his cheeks. He surges up to bite at Yuzu’s lips, his hands curling around his ass, spreading him to feel the slickness there, and it brings a heavy jolt of want in him.

Yuzu sighs softly into their kiss when Shoma easily slides a finger inside, feeling the warmth of his body. He quickly presses in for more, adding a second one, and Yuzu groans, arching his back a little. With the way he’s hunched over Shoma he doesn’t get any friction on his cock, so Shoma wraps his other hand around him, giving a couple light strokes. Yuzu’s hips twitch helplessly, alternating between pushing back and forth on Shoma’s fingers. When Shoma pulls his hand away to stroke at his waist, Yuzu slumps forward, rubbing against Shoma’s belly for some relief.

The third finger is a tight fit and Yuzu whines quietly at the stretch, his hands tight on Shoma’s jaw. 

“Too much?” Shoma asks.

“More lube,” Yuzu responds breathlessly, pressing his face to Shoma’s throat.

Shoma pulls out to grasp blindly for the lube, dotting a generous amount on his fingers before bringing them back, digging into the flesh there before slipping inside again. It’s a little better now, although Shoma still feels the firm resistance of Yuzu’s body as it fights to relax. 

Yuzu pulls at Shoma’s hair a little when he picks up the pace, impatient, opening him up less gently. His touch burns around Shoma’s wrist, keeping his hand steady.

“Slower,” he gasps as he pushes his hips back at a rhythm he’s more comfortable with, dragging out each movement. 

Shoma nods against his shoulder. He twists his fingers, aiming for a better angle, anything to ease the stretch. It’s a while before he gets it, hearing Yuzu let out a choked up sound, his legs clamping down around Shoma’s sides.

“Yeah,” he croaks out, kissing messily at Shoma’s lips, cheeks, jaw, moaning a little louder when Shoma keeps repeating the movement. After a couple moments Yuzu pulls away, sitting back on Shoma’s lap and grasping his hands to guide them to his own thighs, keeps them pressed there as he breathes heavily, his cock swollen and pink against his belly. 

There’s sweat already gathering on Yuzu’s forehead, threatening to slide down his temple. Shoma would’ve liked to reach out and gather the moisture on his fingers, but he can’t with the way he’s basically held down like this.

He doesn’t know why Yuzu stopped and a feeling of uneasiness starts trickling inside him at how still he keeps, looking at Shoma through lidded eyes, as if weighing something in his head. Eventually, Yuzu gives an experimental rock of his hips. Shoma can feel his cock slipping along the wetness between his cheeks and he digs his nails into the firm muscle of Yuzu’s legs, pushes up against him as much as he can in this position, watching him.

His hands slide away when Yuzu abruptly stops and gets off him, pulling him by the arm. He’s just about to ask if something’s wrong, but the words die in his throat when Yuzu lowers himself back on the bed, on his forearms and knees this time. His flushed face is pressed into the sheets, but his fingers dig encouragingly into Shoma’s arm as he wiggles his ass a little.

“Like this,” he says softly, muffled into the bedding and Shoma wishes he could see his face properly.

It hits him hard, the realization that Yuzu’s asking specifically for this, to be weighed down by his smaller frame, for Shoma to keep him steady and hold him through this until it gets too much.

Shoma dazedly pushes himself up on his knees, getting behind him. He slowly drags his hands over Yuzu’s back, feels the solid muscles ripple under the smooth skin. Yuzu’s slim waist creates the illusion that he’s almost delicate and Shoma drapes himself carefully over him, pressing a series of kisses down his spine to the small of his back, feeling him tremble under his touch.

It’s a feat, trying to get the lube with how much his hands are shaking, and he spreads some more on himself, hips pushing a little into his fist with a slick sound. 

“Hurry,” Yuzu pleads with a strained voice, but Shoma ignores him. Yuzu gets to tease him so often and he thinks he deserves a little payback, now that he’s finally given the chance. 

He’s tempted to drag this out simply out of pride, but then Yuzu says in the smallest voice, “Sho.”

Any chance of him waiting goes right out the window and he guides himself inside, bites his lip at the initial resistance before Yuzu’s body opens up, wet and tight. Yuzu groans at the stretch, the loudest he’s been so far, staying still. The sensation leaves Shoma feeling light headed as he tries to collect himself. He goes slow for a while, keeping his thrusts shallow and getting used to the heat and slickness inside, pressing deeper each time. He instinctively searches for the previous angle and moans in relief when he finally finds it. It makes Yuzu clamp down on him with a small cry, impossibly tight, making Shoma’s toes curl.

It’s barely been a few minutes but Yuzu’s already given up on supporting himself with his elbows and simply lies down, back drawn tight in an arch. Shuddering, he stretches a hand back for Shoma to grasp, a silent plea. 

Shoma does so with a choked up exhale, “I got you.” The admission feels a little ridiculous, but Yuzu squeezes his hand with an appreciative noise, so he figures it’s good enough.

He doesn’t know where to focus his gaze; to the sight of him disappearing inside or to the side of Yuzu’s face that’s visible now, flushed pink, mouth slack and eyes clenched shut in concentration. 

Yuzu’s fingers dig almost painfully into Shoma’s palm. “Yes,” he whispers coarsely, moans louder when Shoma pushes in less gentle, so deep, and he twists into the sheets, turning his head away so Shoma can’t see his face anymore.

It makes something swell up inside Shoma, pulse thrumming in his ears until it drowns out everything else. He pulls out on a whim and pushes at Yuzu’s waist to make him turn over, so he’s on his back. Yuzu goes with it, eyes hazy, and instinctively raises his knees around Shoma’s hips. This is a part of himself that Yuzu often prefers to hide from him for some reason, keeping it pressed into the pillows or Shoma’s neck, but not this time.

He plants one hand next to Yuzu’s face and leans down to kiss him, dipping his tongue into his mouth and feeling Yuzu’s arms cling to his shoulders in response, before he abruptly pulls back.

It’s funny how used Shoma is to feeling small around Yuzu; how natural it feels to stand on his tippy toes when he wants to kiss him, the way he hides his face in his chest when they’re hugging. But now, it’s Yuzu who feels smaller somehow while Shoma’s stroking the soft skin of his waist. 

It takes Yuzu a moment to catch his breath, and then one of his hands drops from Shoma’s shoulder to wrap around his own thigh, pulling up to hold himself open, waiting with nervous eyes.

Shoma feels his chest constrict at the sight, at the vulnerable expression on Yuzu’s face. He slowly eases back inside, feeling Yuzu shudder all over and his arms tense up.

“Sho,” he mumbles, eyes drifting shut at every slow thrust, his rib cage fluttering with the strain of containing his breathing. 

Shoma can feel his body trembling around him and he stills, their hips slotted just right. For a while, the only sound is Yuzu’s panting, as he tries to make sense of what’s happening.

“Sho,” he breathes out weakly, drags a hand up Shoma’s arm, whines when Shoma doesn’t move. “Why’d you stop?” he exhales, eyes unfocused, desperate.

Shoma is stunned into silence, blood thrumming in his ears, eyes wide. This is all he’s been fantasizing about for the last few weeks, months even; the sight of Yuzu being this way, messy and loose, uninhibited, a bundle of unrestrained desire. To make him feel good, to be reminded that Yuzu trusts him with this, looking so out of it sprawled out on his back. He tries to burn the image into his mind, store it for all the months he’ll have to spend alone in his room, away from Yuzu’s smiling eyes and warm hands and plush lips, the sound of his voice through a speaker instead of there and real.

Some of the haze clears in Yuzu’s eyes and he pushes himself up on one elbow and curls closer, his hand so terribly gentle where it touches him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks hoarsely, breath fanning out on Shoma’s skin. His fingers are restless as they drag all over Shoma’s face, smoothing back his sweaty hair, stroking his cheek and brushing over the corner of his mouth in an obvious attempt to comfort.

It’s embarrassing, having to admit that he’s just overwhelmed, so Shoma doesn’t, just shakes his head silently and kisses Yuzu, softly at first, almost shyly, and then harder as he leans his weight forward, pushing him on his back again. Yuzu’s arms curl around his shoulders and they both gasp when Shoma starts moving again, the slow slide in and out a steady, grounding rhythm. 

Yuzu’s gaze remains questioning for a short while, and Shoma can see him trying to put up a fight against the wave of sensations flooding his slim frame, until his control starts slipping away and he turns his head to the side, neck arched and eyes shut. 

He’s trying to hide again and Shoma is quick to bring him back, one hand leaving his bony hip to turn his face where he can see it properly, their lips barely brushing. Yuzu seems dazed, unable to keep his eyes from sliding shut, mouth dropping open in a long moan as his hands find the back of Shoma’s thighs, trying to drag him closer.

He’s almost folded in half now, body curved around Shoma’s the same way a tree’s roots find their way around a rock, and Shoma can feel every inch of him, inside and out, their heated bodies perfectly aligned.

“Don’t stop,” Yuzu gasps out, panting, his cock slipping wetly between their stomachs. “Shoma, don’t — ”

“I’m not,” Shoma responds, curls his hand around Yuzu’s waist to keep him still, pulls almost all the way out, so that when he pushes inside again Yuzu keens at the long forceful slide.

“So good,” Yuzu mumbles, presses his face against Shoma’s neck, leaves a trail of wet kisses there. “Feels so good, Sho,” he repeats, voice pitched and unsteady. Shoma groans in response, hips twitching. The satisfaction of hearing these words spreads like wildfire in him, down to his toes, a sweet ache in his limbs.

“Yes, I’m — ” Yuzu’s hips stutter as he whimpers and comes in hot spurts between them, his whole body so tense and tight that Shoma’s afraid he’s gonna snap in half. He stays like this for a few seconds, fingers digging harshly into Shoma’s skin, before he slumps against the mattress, head thrown back on the pillows, his throat working frantically around each breath. It’s the first time Yuzu’s come like this, just from Shoma fucking him, and the sight blows Shoma’s mind.

He is stunned by how beautiful Yuzu looks, how he’s allowed to witness him at this state. He never would have thought this would work out back then, the way he kept stealing glances at him, growing up alongside him yet so far away at the same time, his shy hellos and goodbyes during competitions, Yuzu patting his elbow and smiling distractedly at him. 

Then the quiet shift; Yuzu starting to pay a different kind of attention to him, taking notice of all the ways he’d grown up, his presence feeling bigger, the newfound sense of maturity in the way he’d hold himself. The way their congratulatory hugs would linger, Yuzu’s breath on the side of his face inviting. Staying up together to finish a boss battle, Yuzu’s exhilarated laughter once they’d done it, rolling around on his bed and kicking his feet up like a child. Hiding his face in Shoma’s shoulder as his giggles died out, eyes suddenly nervous, picking up on the way Shoma’s body kept leaning closer, as if unconsciously pulled by the radiance of his smile. Yuzu kissing him softly, first on the corner of his lips and, when Shoma didn’t pull away, more daringly, square on his mouth. How he giggled some more after, teased Shoma for his perpetually chapped lips. Promised to buy him chapstick. 

And now here they are.

Shoma drags his hand over the flushed skin of Yuzu’s shoulders, cups his face to kiss him, sweet and tender. Yuzu sighs into it in appreciation, small aftershocks still jostling his legs where they’re curled around Shoma’s sides. He stares at Shoma with lidded eyes as he takes hold of his hands, guiding them back to his own hips.

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising, and then he clenches hard around him. Shoma’s breath hitches, forehead dropping against Yuzu’s neck, feeling his still racing pulse.

“Go on,” Yuzu encourages and Shoma does, tries to find his rhythm again. He starts slow, dragging out every move just to drink in the soft gasps that escape Yuzu’s mouth at every shaky thrust, his expression so open and fond, half sated and half responding to the heat still coursing through Shoma’s limbs.

“It’s okay,” Yuzu whispers, one hand wrapped around Shoma’s neck and the other stroking his face, biting at his lips. His skin is still so hot and Shoma feels like he’s gonna suffocate from it, burn until there’s nothing left of him. He tries to hold on a bit longer to savor this enormous feeling, but he can’t. He comes with a muffled cry after a couple more thrusts, deep inside Yuzu, hears him sigh in satisfaction next to his ear, cheek pressed to Shoma’s temple.

“Sho,” he keeps repeating his name, voice low and scratchy and so warm, his fingers tangled into Shoma’s hair. Shoma feels so heavy now that he’s spent, and he sinks gratefully into Yuzu’s welcoming arms.

He slowly eases down with Yuzu rubbing soft circles on his back and pressing kisses all over his face, his long limbs curled up around Shoma like a protective bubble, keeping him close and still.

After a while, Yuzu rolls them on their sides, letting out a soft noise when Shoma slips out in the process, but he keeps his leg thrown over Shoma’s hips, holding him. Shoma absentmindedly strokes the tender skin of his thigh, slightly red where his fingers dug into it earlier.

“That was nice,” Yuzu whispers and Shoma nods with a tired smile. 

Now that it’s over, awareness of other things in the room starts trickling in; the sound of the traffic outside, the dim light of the bedside lamp, just bright enough to illuminate Yuzu’s warm expression. One of the pillows pushed to the edge of the bed, ready to fall. The cooling dampness of Yuzu’s orgasm on his belly. It should feel gross, he knows it will surely do so in a couple minutes, but for now there’s still enough lingering heat in his limbs for it to be a pleasant reminder of what just took place between them.

“I could do this all night,” Yuzu says quietly and the admission brings a deep flush to Shoma’s cheeks, making him feel bold and daring. Yuzu half squeaks when Shoma pushes two fingers back inside him without warning, mouth falling open at the twist of his wrist.

“Maybe not right away,” he says with a laugh, a bit shaky but still quiet, as if he doesn’t want to break the spell of the aftermath.

“You should have said that first,” Shoma points out and he’s surprised at the sound of his own voice, how it’s less teasing than he would have expected. His fingers pump in and out lazily and he marvels at the slickness there, until Yuzu whines in discomfort and squirms away, still too sensitive. 

“Alright, I’m never saying anything nice to you again,” Yuzu faux complains as he scoots to the side of the bed, reaching for some tissues to half heartedly clean himself up, then do the same for Shoma.

The weird moment dissipates and it leaves Shoma feeling like he just emerged from deep underwater, his ears stuffed with cotton. He doesn’t know what that was, but Yuzu doesn’t seem to want to linger on it, so he pushes it to the back of his mind, for later.

“I need a shower, but I don’t want to get up,” Shoma complains, wiggling when Yuzu tickles his side.

“Want me to carry you?” Yuzu offers annoyingly, only because he knows Shoma would never accept.

It brings a scoff out of Shoma, who swats lightly at his hand in retaliation and then at his butt, when Yuzu turns around to get off the bed.

“Stop being horrible,” he says and fights to keep a stone face at Yuzu’s innocent look.

“I thought I was being nice?” he says over his shoulder as he stretches his back, the slope of his hips so inviting. 

He looks beautiful from behind, all lean muscle and a thin waist, his strong legs. Shoma could stare at him for hours. He’s doing it now, if Yuzu’s knowing smirk as he disappears into the bathroom is any indication. Shoma can’t see himself but he knows he must still be a blushing mess. The sound of running water reaches his ears.

“You coming?”

Shoma groans loudly in protest but gets up after a couple of minutes, dragging his feet. Yuzu is already submerged in the tub by then, his hair fanning out in the water, eyes closed. He looks the most relaxed Shoma’s seen him in the past few weeks. Shoma slots himself on the other end of the tub, pressed between his legs because there’s not much room, feels the soothing lap of the water on his skin. Yuzu always takes his baths and showers too hot, but it’s something Shoma got used to early on.

They end up fucking again in the tub, because Shoma can’t get that moment from before out of his head, cooling water sloshing around them with every move, their bodies sliding against each other. Yuzu opens up beautifully around Shoma’s fingers once again, Shoma’s mouth around his cock, needing to finish what he started earlier. It’s less intense but still nice, Yuzu stroking his hair throughout it, his thighs clamping down around Shoma’s head, the lower half of his body suspended almost entirely out of the water. 

When it gets too much, Yuzu pushes Shoma’s face away and lets his legs slip down from his shoulders, wraps a hand around them both until they spill over his slender fingers, shuddering against each other. They’re both pruny and cold when they finally make it to bed, giggly and sated. It’s been a long day.

They put on sleeping clothes, Yuzu opting for proper pajamas while Shoma can barely bother with a comfy shirt, and then stumble into Yuzu’s bed that’s actually clean. 

Yuzu lies down on his side, one of his hands extended to stroke over Shoma’s elbow.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, eventually, and Shoma smiles and hums, focused on his game. It’s unusual, but there’s still some residual energy in him and he needs to finish those quests before the special rewards expire.

It doesn’t take long for Yuzu to fall asleep and he predictably rolls around after a while, facing away. One of his eyes is half open when Shoma eventually gets up to turn off the lights they forgot in the bathroom, and he can’t help the snicker that bubbles up inside him at the sight. He’d look downright scary, if he wasn’t so ridiculous.

Shoma lies down and tries to get comfortable, wiggling around. He ends up pressed against Yuzu’s back, an arm thrown over him, feeling his chest expand steadily with every breath.

When he wakes up in the middle of the night, almost on instinct after the last weeks of having to turn off his alarm around that time, Yuzu hasn’t moved. Shoma yawns and goes back to sleep, pleased.

  
  



End file.
